


What is the Shortest Distance Between Two Sides?

by gerbilfluff



Category: Batman: The Animated Series
Genre: Glory Hole, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 15:11:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11831337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gerbilfluff/pseuds/gerbilfluff
Summary: The Riddler finds an interesting fixture in his newest hideout. It'd be a shame to let it go to waste...





	What is the Shortest Distance Between Two Sides?

What is the Shortest Distance Between Two Sides?

by Apricot the Gerbil

 

It’s not like it’s illegal to take a look around the place, Edward reminds himself, as his question-mark cane knocks through yet another cheap padlocked chain. He’s merely a citizen doing some innocent urban exploration. And really, a shuttered property? In Gotham? It’s a wonder one of those Arkham crazies they keep locking him up with didn’t beat him to the punch weeks ago.

Though even a child could recognize the Oasis Lounge had been smart, in that regard. Nothing divisible by two in the title. No cats, plants, or even the V of a seagull in its logo. The place won’t be coming up on Batman’s radar for a good, long while. Just the way Eddie likes it. Especially when the GCPD happens to be on his tail at the moment as it is.   
  
_Purely_  a misunderstanding, that. Even a genius forgets to check the post sometimes, court date letters included. Though it’s not like his parole officer would ever believe him by now, that pencil-pushing peon.  
  
Which leaves him here, scouting for a new base of operations. He prods the door to the Oasis’s basement open with his cane. Pauses at a creak from inside… and tosses the cane in first, waiting to see if anything lunges at it. Goons, booby traps, who knows. Can’t be too careful, with so many “costumed extremists,” or whatever the news is calling them now, roaming around lately.  
  
There’s a clatter, as it lands. Then, silence.  
  
He leans through the doorway, peering this way and that. Sniffing at the faint nicotine tang in the air. No windows down here… He retrieves his cane from the floor, then looks for the nearest light switch– which, to his surprise, actually still works when he clicks it on.  
  
A brightly colored mural greets his eyes, stretching across the span of the basement. Green islands in a sea of blue, complete with a rainbow arching overhead. Charming enough. Not something he’d mind seeing in a hideout day after day.  
  
Full-length bar along the far wall, he notes. He checks behind the counter, hope flickering that he might find some leftovers… but, no. Nothing but a stack of paper napkins. Pity. He could’ve thrown himself a housewarming party.  
  
Cursory check of the ladies’ room… Besides some fancy hand soaps, nothing to write home about. Then he steps into the men’s room. Flicks the light on. And gapes in disbelief.  
  
It’s not that it’s easily several times the size of the women’s bathroom that catches his notice first, though that’s certainly a runner-up. It’s the hole cut into the side of the lone stall’s wall. _Right_ there. No effort made to conceal it.   
  
He stands and stares at the opening, tilting his head with morbid curiosity. Yes, of course he’s  _heard_  of these before. Finding the glory hole hidden in Arkham has long been the Joker’s favorite snipe hunt to pass along to newcomers. Seeing one in the wild is a different story.  
  
It’s when he peeks inside the stall to find a sea of scrawled first names and phone numbers that things finally click. An oasis, indeed. He could guess as to why this place was shut down. Perhaps the same reason none of his fellow rogues have touched it.   
  
Edward scratches his head with the curved end of his cane, frowning. For a place as packed to the gills with rage and fear as Gotham, it’s tragic the city can be so against the chance of a little gentlemanly affection.   
  
Not that  _he_  swings that way, of course. Or any way at all, to be honest. He’s known for years that there isn’t anyone else in the world he’d consider on his level– man, woman, or otherwise. An elephant doesn’t bother to chat up the ants at his feet for a date.  
  
Well. There is  _one_  man…  
  
Edward’s eyes widen, as he keeps staring at the hole.  
  
Oh, no. No no no, he pleads to himself. Eddie, don’t do it. Don’t try to bring  _him_ here.  
  
Yet his expression’s already glazing over, imagining his one and only intellectual equal stepping forward from the darkness. Unsheathing himself from shadowy armor to present his offering to the hole. So unthinkably  _vulnerable_  as he’s sliding thick and hard into Edward’s own waiting mouth–  
  
He cuts the fantasy off there, clammy sweat prickling at his forehead.  _You CAN’T. If you get obsessed about Batman again, he’ll find you, and as soon as he does, he’ll cart you back to Arkham. You KNOW that’s how it ends. That’s ALWAYS how it ends._  
  
But damned if his hard-on isn’t still pounding in his trousers at the very thought.  
  
Well. It could be anybody on the other side of the wall, if someone ever comes by, he reasons. Isn’t that the whole point of the thing?  
  
And after all, the Oasis would purely be a place to relax  _if_  I’m even going to stay here, he clarifies, scrubbing the tiled men’s room floor that night with a dollar-store sponge and bucket of disinfectant.  
  
Somewhere I can take the weight of being the smartest man in the city off my shoulders, he murmurs to the bar napkins, jotting down ideas for how best to hide the Oasis Lounge’s map coordinates within a personals ad. Rest my mind for a while, before I decide where to go from here.  
  
Though if a certain vigilante in a flying rat costume  _was_  to stumble across the place and find that hole, he thinks as he drops the ad in the mailbox to run in the Gotham Nights circular’s classifieds for the next month, I can’t very well  _stop_  him, now can I? It’s not like I own the property.  
  
If anything, Batman would probably never think to use something like that in the first place. I mean, can you  _imagine_ , he chuckles without a trace of humor, seated hunched like a vulture upon the stall toilet, staring at the hole, night after sleepless night. He smooths a hand down his lime green undershirt. Strokes over the tent in his matching boxer briefs. Suckles two, and then three, of his fingers into his mouth, choking back a moan that sounds positively whorish.  
  
Don’t be ridiculous, he pants to the semen soon streaking his palm.  
  
He’s dimly aware, somewhere in the back corner of his mind that serves as his conscience, that it’s now only a matter of time before he loses everything again, and he has no one but himself to blame. He’s doomed a perfectly good safe haven to a Bat infestation, and all for the hope of some cheap, momentary thrill with his greatest enemy. He should be ashamed of himself, letting his lower brain do the thinking for him like that.  
  
And yet. If Batman’s the one to catch him– and he ALWAYS is– why not reward his opponent with a prize worth  _both_  their whiles, for once?  
  
All puns aside, he can’t think of a better bang to go out with.  
  
———  
  
For once in his life, Edward’s glad he’s such a light sleeper.   
  
He jerks where he’s curled against the corner of the stall, snorting awake at stark footfalls coming down the stairs overhead. He brushes a hand through the convenience store food wrappers that’ve kept him going these past few days, blinking in confusion, but once he remembers where he is, he has to hold back a cry for joy. His favorite foe’s finally shown up!  
  
His heartbeat’s in his throat as he hears the Caped Crusader step into the men’s room. This is it, Edward thinks. He’ll be locked up again, but at least he knows Batman still cares enough to answer his call.  
  
Batman pauses there at the doorway. There’s a shuffling of clothes… A zipper? He didn’t know the Batsuit had anything as simple as a zipper fly…  
  
_…Ah._  
  
Edward stares bug-eyed at what’s still a very aesthetically impressive specimen, he has to admit, poking eagerly through the hole before him. But the sight leaves him at a loss for words.   
  
He may not have figured out his secret identity yet, but he’s  _fairly_  certain Batman’s not black.  
  
He darts his eyes every which way, unsure of what to do.  _How do I even explain myself? ‘No, it’s not a race thing, you’re just… not Batman.’ Is there a word for that? Batman-sexual?_  
  
“J-just a minute,” he stammers, and allows himself a moment’s pout at the nerve of some people, solving a supervillain’s puzzle that  _obviously_  wasn’t even addressed to them.  
  
_Still. Give the man credit,_  Edward chides himself.  _That personals ad was one of your best riddles yet. Why not just close your eyes and IMAGINE he’s Batman? Don’t moan any names, and he’ll never know you’re cheating on him._  
  
He nods at his own impeccable logic, and leans over where he sits to bless this random citizen with a blowjob the Dark Knight himself would deserve.  
  
The best he knows how to deliver, at least, he adds, inching his head back when his first overeager dive leaves him gagging.   
  
A second attempt, and his would-be hero flinches away from him, grunting, “Oof. Teeth…”   
  
He tries taking just the head into his mouth, lapping underneath the tip, but his inner perfectionist is soon pointing out it’s too simple an action to be entertaining to his guest for long. This was a terrible idea, he panics. He has  _no clue_  what he’s doing–  
  
He leans away just enough to mutter an apologetic “It’s… my first go at this. Bear with me.”  
  
A hand reaches through the edge of the hole from the other side, smoothing down the curve of his cheek and coaxing him closer. Stroking fingers through Edward’s short red hair, after his next try ends in another beginner’s gag. He’s surprised to find how hard he’s getting from the touches alone.   
  
_Hey. Shhh. Shh,_  the stranger’s voice soothes him.  _You’re doing great._  
  
( Batman, praising ME )  
  
“Hmmgh,” is all he can moan at first with a cock in his mouth, feeling his own prick leap to full attention. He leans back just enough to pant, “If… could you… keep saying that, please?”  
  
His eyes close as he goes back to sucking, hearing the voice on the other side purr,  _So good. You’re doing so. fucking. good, keep going._  Fingers, running through his hair again. _You’re AMAZING._  
  
He’s fumbling his hand down to his crotch, and it’s too late; he’s already coming, right in his underwear. He jerks his head away, crying out in wordless shouts to the stall walls at the feeling.  
  
A faint, knowing chuckle, from the other side. “You gonna need a minute?” he hears.  
  
Edward gives a shuddering exhale. And smiles, taking the other man’s dick into his hand to tug down along the shaft. “Never felt better,” he says, as he slurps it in for another round.  
  
Which isn’t a lie. The real Batman may not ever shyly request to have his balls played with, but this whole experience is turning out to be a most pleasant distraction just the same, Edward muses through gentle squeezes of his hand.  
  
When his guest eventually slaps and shivers against the wall separating them, groaning before bucking his mouth full of hot, sticky seed, Eddie feels a rush of accomplishment that’s distinct from solving a plain old Rubik’s Cube. He personally wouldn’t call this feeling “sexy,” but…  _gosh_  if it isn’t nice.  
  
And after he’s done spitting into the toilet, not sure what else to do with it, he hears a satisfied “That. was  _fantastic.”_  from the other side of the hole. Once he’s had a chance to catch his breath, the stranger continues, “I used to love this place. I’m so glad someone’s bringing the magic back.”  
  
“Any enchantments cast were mutually woven, I can assure you,” Edward replies back smoothly. He winces after saying it, as his throat’s now fairly tender. He doesn’t find himself minding at all.  
  
“Uh huh.” There’s a pause. One that lingers into the beginnings of awkwardness. “Um. My name’s Victor, by the way.”  
  
“Oh, er. Edward.” He’s blurted it out before he can think of a good pseudonym. Isn’t the point of a glory hole not knowing the other man’s name? Are there rules to this he doesn’t know about?  
  
“Ohmygod, Edward NYGMA?!”  
  
Edward’s heart skips a beat in terror. “Who is this?” he demands.  
  
His only response is an undignified squeal that sounds muffled through Victor’s own hands. “I knew it! I  _knew_  it, you’re  _actually HIM!_  I told my buddies, I  _said,_  this HAS to be him, the Riddler plays on our team– who else in this city is gonna use rhyming 1930s film trivia in a hookup ad?! And they all  _laughed!_  Wait 'till I tell 'em!”   
  
A pause. “I mean.  _Can_  I tell them? If you’re not out, I get it, I’m not gonna be  _that_  guy, it’s just…”  
  
Edward clears his throat. “Less a matter of my orientation than that I’m a wanted man at the moment,” he says warily.   
  
“Right. That’s right, you’re right,” Victor stammers. “Mum’s the word, I promise. Scout’s honor. I just. Oh, wow. It’s an HONOR to meet you in person, Mr. Nygma. I’m a huge fan.”  
  
Edward sits there, wondering if he should look for the camera filming this prank.  
  
“You mean to tell me there are Riddler  _groupies?”_  he finally asks.  
  
“You didn’t know?” Victor sounds incredulous. “Oh, man! I’ve been playing Riddle of the Minotaur since I was in high school, I’ve got one of your Wacko Toys on my desk at work– you  _do_  know your old cane went for thousands of dollars online last month, right?”  
  
“Hm.” A frown jerks at Edward’s mouth. He’d wondered where his chess pawn cane had gone to. “Well, I’m… flattered?” He sighs, rubbing at his temples. “My apologies. This is quite the news to take in all at once. Especially for what I thought  _tends_  to be a random anonymous encounter.”  
  
“Right, right.” There’s a pause, before Victor pipes up again. “Oh. About that. It ended up taking me a few days to figure out your ad. Is it okay if… I mean, if you want that to be a secret, too, I won’t, but. Can I just  _tell_  my friends someone’s working the hole again? Not that it’s  _you_. Just the ones who’d be interested in this.” Two knocks, against the stall wall.  
  
Edward’s struck mute for a moment, not sure how to answer. But  _Batman_. But… more of THIS. Whatever 'this’ ends up being.  
  
“By all means,” he answers at last, a smile quirking at his lips. After all, he thinks, any audience is a good audience. He wouldn’t want to leave his fans wanting, now would he?   
  
( I have FANS. I HAVE  _FANS_ ~ )  
  
And with enough practice? Edward’s grin gains a sly curl.   
  
_If_  he ever shows up, Batman won’t know what hit him.


End file.
